Reset Password
Reset Link Sent
| Blogs > NG879190 > Menagerie |
Polaroid
|
Polaroid Rushing out the door, he dropped his keys. A sharp expletive and a mad grab later he was unlocking the car and hopping into the cold interior. The engine had barely started before the wheels bit into the pavement. He was late, again. The cold air in the cabin of the car was stirring loudly as the warm air trickled from the vents. His mind raced to calculate the best possible time he would be able to make it to the office today. Although it wasn't really her fault, he was inclined to believe she had a hand in his tardiness. She never stopped him from getting ready in the mornings, but time slowed down considerably when he was with her. A fact she was keenly aware of, certainly. This morning, she was hell bent to dissect the merits of a particular director and while he was not invited to pass judgement, he was obligated to hear the case. It was genuinely enthralling how she described his use of visuals and character dynamics to both subvert and enhance the story. All the while, she was languidly moving from one station in the house to the next as she performed her morning rituals. Most of the time, he could listen while he performed his own tasks. Occasionally nodding, humming agreement, or asking small questions when prompted to ask. The cadence of her voice naturally made him feel as if his preparations for the day were clicking along at a reasonable pace, but the clock disagreed. Taking the turn into the parking lot a bit too quickly, he snapped the wheel hard to avoid hitting the cement post guarding the driveway. He found his preferred parking spot and slammed the car into it. Grabbing his bag, he was halfway to the door of the office when the bleat of the car's horn let him know it had locked the doors. His office was still half-dark as the other late arrivals were making their way in and switching lights on as they went. Peering through the glass of the conference room, he held up a single finger to his colleague to let him know he would be in soon. The hours bled by as he slogged through the meeting. Each detail debated and re-thought by his team as they tried in vain to come to a consensus. Rubbing his temples, he tried to hold his impatience in before going to the board and erasing their work. The silence was welcome. He uncapped the pen and went to work, laying out the strategy and making assignments. Each of his team following his lead, creating their own notes based on the plan he was laying out. An hour later, the conference room was empty and he was reclining in a chair in the corner of his own office. The quiet passing through him as he recovered. It wasn't quite time to leave for the day, but he welcomed the idea. She drifted into his mind. The organized chaos she manifested breaking through the rigid order of meetings, organizational dynamics, and supervision. In his mind, she was always in the bare minimum of clothing. It felt right to him, thinking of her this way. Accessible and playful, challenging and forgiving, oscillating dichotomies that allowed her to conform where he needed her. His eyes closed, the sound of the knock at the door sent a cold anger through him. He took a deep breath and the wisp of her faded. The sun crept low through the office window as the impromptu meeting droned on. The key members of his team were eagerly elaborating on the plan he had provided the blueprint for several hours earlier. The executives sat quietly, asking pointed questions and letting the team do the work to justify the actions needed. Occasionally, he would chime in. Some explanation would be needed or affirmation given to keep the conversation on track and in scope. Each tangent drawing his attention and energy. The opaque night on the other side of the window eventually signaled the end of the meeting and everyone gave their platitudes and dismissed themselves. And, he wearily did the same. The air outside was much colder than it had been that morning, prompting him to pull his jacket tight and ball his hands up in the pockets. Irritated, he fished for the key and pressed the buttons to start the car while he walked over. He should have done it much sooner, but his mind was still recovering from the day. The headlights came on to add their stark blue light to the warm yellow lights of the building. Moving in front of them, he pressed the unlock button and heard the click of the locks. Stepping toward the door, he caught a faint scent mingling with the exhaust steaming up from the back of his car. A spicy aroma that he could not place. He opened the door as he tried to force his mind to connect it to a memory...or a person. His eyes fell on the white bordered card resting in the dash of his car. A black void formed between the shadows and the bright lights of the instruments behind it. He reached for it and held it in better light. The pull of a smile pulled his mouth tight. The red lipstick immediately drew his eye to the way she was biting her lower lip and it took him a moment before he let his eyes absorb the rest of the image. The smell of her perfume filled the car and he breathed it in deeply. He followed the low cut of her top, her breasts purposely on display and modestly covered. The picture of her warmed him and the day evaporated into it. Seeing a black line in the broad white margin under his thumb, he adjusted his grip on the polaroid and read, "Hurry home..." |
Become a member to create a blog
